Just Like Jack
by Psyched
Summary: Kensi comes to an important realization about her relationship with Deeks. Takes place some time after Kulinda (8x12) but before Hot Water (8x13).


**Spoilers:** Only what's already aired in the US.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine, not making any money from this.

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Deeks is leaving me. Just like Jack did. Okay, not _just_ like Jack did; Deeks is going to come home and tell me to my face that he wants to end things. I won't just wake up one morning and find him gone.

I'm on our couch, almost paralyzed at the thought of our pending conversation. Ever since he texted a little bit ago that he's on his way home. He caught me on my way out of the mission this morning after my workout and asked me if I'd mind skipping my usual evening return. I was thinking he'd suggest going out dancing or something and was in the process of deciding how I felt about that when I heard his actual words, "I want to talk to you about something."

So here I sit, desperately in want of a beer to dull the fear and anticipated pain. But I won't have one. I need to be clear-headed for this discussion; I owe Deeks that much. And honestly, I probably the deserve the pain.

I'm trying to figure out how to respond when he says, "Kens, this just isn't working out." Should I take it like an adult, accept what he has to say and ask for a visitation schedule with Monty? Cry and beg him not to leave me, promise him that I'll change if he gives me the chance? Shoot him and enjoy the rest of my life with a silent Marty Deeks cryogenically preserved in our living room? All three options have their appeal.

When I hear his key in the front door, my hands automatically go to my hair to straighten it out. Deeks seems surprised to see me waiting for him. "Hey," he says somewhat nervously, unless I'm projecting my own anxiety onto him.

"Good rest of your day?"

"Yeah. It was fine. You know, chased some bad guys, caught some bad guys, saved the world." He leans down to kiss me hello, and I take his face in my hands to keep him there a little longer, extending our kiss. I don't have to make this easy for him.

When he pulls away, Deeks squints his eyes a bit, trying to figure out what's going on. It's been a while since I've been this affectionate with him, I realize. No wonder he's ready to ditch me. He continues into the kitchen, and from the open fridge asks if I want a beer. When I decline, he returns with a couple of bottles of water.

Sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, facing me but not touching, Deeks looks distinctly uncomfortable. In that instant I decide to take advantage of what I hope is his indecision and I speak first. "Listen babe, I know you want to talk, but can I just start by saying that I love you?" Nope, definitely not going to make it easy for him.

He smiles softly, "You can always tell me that, Kens."

"I know. But I don't think I've been saying it enough lately. And I'm sorry about that, Deeks. Really. You should be hearing it from me every day, because you are the most important thing in my life." The look on his face tells me I'm right; he's been doubting how I feel about him. God, I feel like crap.

"Well, that's good to know, baby." He runs his hand through his hair and licks his lips in that way that tells me he's trying to get his thoughts in order. Figure out the words to say that he's ending it. Ending us.

He looks me in the eye and begins, "So yeah, I had a little chat with Sam recently, and I'm totally about to do what he told me not to." He takes a breath. "Kensi, it's obvious that you're not happy, and I can't say I blame you, after everything you've been though. I've tried being your cheerleader, and I've tried giving you space, and neither seems to be working. So maybe I just need to ask you, what do you want, baby? What can I do to help you be happy again?"

I'm kind of stunned by Deeks' words. I thought I'd been doing a better job of hiding my discontent from him. Hell, between his long days at work and my time at the gym, I haven't seen him much lately. How could he tell how I'm feeling?

I realize he's waiting for me to answer him, so I start where he did. I look down at my hands, clasped together tightly. "You're right, I'm not happy. All I want is to get back to work and everyone keeps putting up roadblocks. Hetty tells me I need to shoot left-handed. Nate tells me I'm not what the team needs right now. And I keep running into Anna, who is perfectly nice and has never been anything but kind to me, but all I want to do is punch her in the face because she's with you guys and I'm not." I look up without lifting my head, ashamed of that last admission. But that's not what Deeks is focused on.

"Wait, what do you mean about Nate? He said you're not what the team needs? When did you talk to him? Kensi, no one on the team thinks that, you have to know that. We all want you back." Deeks takes my hands in his and it soothes my heart. Would he really want me back on the team if he was going to break up with me?

"Nate doesn't seem to think that's a good idea right now, and he gets to make the decision about when I come back, or if I do."

"Maybe I should talk to him tomorrow. I'm sure Callen and Sam would, too."

I give him a small smile. "I don't think that'll help, but thank you. Nate wants me to talk to him. To admit that I'm scared I might never make it back all the way, and what I'll do if that happens."

"So what _can_ I do to help? I'll do anything you want, baby. But I need you to tell me what that is."

"That's just it, Deeks, I don't know what will help. I don't know what to tell Nate. I sure as hell don't think I can tell him the truth."

"Which is?"

I look down again, unable to meet his eyes. "That I don't know who I am if I'm not an NCIS agent. That I don't want to be that person, whoever she is. At least not now." I try to get the words out before my voice betrays me, but I don't. I break at the end, and Deeks lifts my chin with finger just as the first tear falls. I wipe it away, disgusted with myself, and resist when the man I love tries to pull me into his arms.

"I'm okay," I say. "I don't want to fall apart right now, you wanted to talk."

"Is that why you've been avoiding me? Because you don't want me to see you cry?"

"I haven't been avoiding you." I don't even come close to pulling that one off.

The look he gives me screams, _Bullshit, Kens. Try again._ "Really?" His voice is high-pitched with disbelief. "Because you come to the mission to work out when you know I'm in going to be in the field. You leave here every night to go back to there and you don't want me to come with you. You won't run with me, or hike together. If that's not avoiding me, Kensi, what is it?"

"It's not like that, Deeks. It's not that I don't want to do those things with you. I just can't yet."

"Why the hell not?" He's not angry, just confused. "If you can do those things alone, you can do them with me."

"Because I'm not back to where I was. And I don't want you to see me like that, not anymore."

Now he looks angry. "What the fuck, Kens?" Yeah, he's angry. "I pulled you out from under a helicopter and carried you through the desert, dodging bullets, by the way, until we could get you help. I sat by your bedside for nearly a month while you were in a coma, doing everything I could think of to get you to wake up. I talked to you every day, I _begged_ you nearl _y_ every day, I kissed you hello and goodbye, I brought you coffee and your favorite breakfast. I proposed and put a ring on your finger!" Deeks isn't yelling, but he doesn't have to. The words are still like physical blows to my gut.

"Deeks, I –" I knew it had to have been hard on him when I was unconscious, but his reaction right now is telling me I have no idea what he really went through.

"No, let me finish. It doesn't get too much worse than how I've seen you, Kens. Trapped under a helicopter. Hooked up to machines, pale, still, and cold. I wiped your tears away when you woke up so upset because you couldn't move your hand. I've picked you up to get you in and out of bed and the bathroom, and pushed you around in a wheelchair. I was ready to do that every day for the rest of my life if necessary, Kensi! And I would have been happy and grateful to do it, because it would mean that you were alive and we were together."

Deeks must realize that he's on the verge of tears himself, because suddenly he stops talking and stands up. He paces away from the couch and back again slowly, running his hand through his hair. He stops in front of me and looks down, "Before you woke up, baby, I was so afraid that you would have…issues beyond what I could help you with. That I wouldn't know how to support you. And now here you are, walking and running, shooting and training, and you won't _let_ me help you. I feel you slipping further and further away from me every day and nothing I do seems to matter. Do you have any idea how that _feels_? For you to pull away from me like that? I'm terrified that I'm losing you, Kensi." His voice is gentler, but there is no disguising the hurt in it.

I open my mouth to deny that I'm pulling away from him. To remind Deeks that _of course_ I know how it feels to be left behind, physically and emotionally, bit by bit, helpless to do anything but watch as the person you plan to share your life with is unwilling or unable to accept your help. Even though you would do almost anything to make him better. Deeks knows what I went through with Jack, how could he even ask me that?

That's when it hits me, like the proverbial ton of bricks. I'm the one who's been acting just like Jack in this scenario, not Deeks. He's right. _I've_ been leaving _him_ behind, unable or unwilling (I don't even know which) to accept the help he so desperately wants to provide. Dear God, what's _wrong_ with me?

"Kens?" Deeks is looking at me curiously and I realize I've been sitting here with my mouth hanging open for who knows how long while I have my revelation. I don't know what to say to him.

"I'm…You…" I close my eyes, because looking at him is distracting. I can't stand how much I've hurt him. I need to fix this, and I don't know how. Seems to be a common theme for me lately. I feel Deeks sit on the couch, closer than before. He puts his hand on mine, but doesn't take it in his. He's still giving me the room to do what I need. To pull away again or grab on to him.

I turn my hand over and slip my fingers between his, recalling how momentous an act that was just a few months ago, here on this very couch. It's even more important today, I recognize. I hope Deeks does, too. I'm not walking away anymore. I'm tethering myself to him. I feel the relief flood my veins as I realize this is what I should have done a long time ago.

When I open my eyes and look at him, Deeks is staring at our joined hands. He expression is cautious, like he doesn't know what to make of my gesture. I definitely need to fix this. "I didn't realize…" I begin slowly. He's said so much and I want to respond to it all. He deserves an explanation.

I start again. "I'm sorry, Deeks. I didn't realize I was doing that. Not in the way you've been feeling it, at least. I thought I was standing still this whole time, huddled in on myself. Kind of like you did, after Sidorov. I thought I was keeping away, but certainly not _moving away_ from you. But you're right, that's exactly what I've done. And I'm so sorry."

He exhales slowly and I can see some of his tension release. He really wasn't sure which way this was going to go, what I was going to say. He squeezes my hand gently. "I appreciate the apology Kensi. But what I want more is to figure out what we can do about this. I hate the distance between us, and I want it to end."

"Me too," I nod my head and the tears come again. "But I don't know what to do. I want…no, I need so much to go back to work, to feel normal again, and I don't know how to make that happen."

This time when Deeks pulls me toward him, I don't resist. He leans back and I go with him, his arm wrapped around me. "Then let me help," he whispers.

It takes several moments of silence for me to understand Deeks didn't mean that as a statement. He was asking me to let him help. Like he's been trying to all along. I nod again, moving my face against his chest so that that it wipes away the tears. "Please."

"Okay then. The way I see it, there are two issues here. The first is for you to figure out why you equate being at work with feeling normal, and why getting back is so important to you. Because baby, you are an incredible person no matter what you do. And it pains me that you seem to put all of your value into being an agent." I look up at him, about to argue, but he continues, "The second is getting you back on your game so you can come back to work. Because Kensi Blye, awesome as she is, also happens to be a kick-ass federal agent who deserves to be out in the field if that's what she wants."

"Didn't you just contradict yourself?"

"No. I totally respect and support that you want to get back to work. My problem is with your insistence that you _need_ it, like it defines you or makes you whole. It doesn't, Kens."

I think about this for a bit. I can see Deeks' point, and even agree with it, intellectually. But in my heart, that's not how I feel. I _do_ equate "Kensi Blye" with "Special Agent," as if I can't be one without the other. I never realized how strong that identification was until I had it taken away from me. Until it was almost severed, an "incomplete injury" like the one to my spinal cord.

Deeks is saying what Nate was trying to. I need to figure out who I am without NCIS, just in case I can't make it back. Because if I don't, and I'm never a hundred percent again physically, it'll destroy me. And that would destroy us. And I don't want to let that happen. "I get that. I do. But how do I redefine myself?"

"Damned if I know," Deeks responds, matter-of-factly.

I laugh, for the first time in what seems like a long time. I push against Deeks to sit up so I can glare at him, and see that has a grin on his face as well. "I thought you were going to help me," I accuse.

"Something you learn in law school is not to give advice outside of your field of expertise. And this is way outside of mine. But we do happen to know an operational psychologist who probably has some experience with this."

"You think I should tell Nate how I really feel? I'm afraid he'll never let me back in the field if he knows about this."

"I think he's already not letting in the field because he knows this about you, Kens. What's that they say, admitting you have a problem is the first step to changing it?"

"So being dedicated to my career, one that saves people's lives, mind you, is a bad thing?"

"No, but being so 'dedicated' to it that the threat of losing it impacts the rest of your life in such a negative manner is probably not the healthiest way to live. And you can't deny that this is affecting you, badly."

No, I can't. "So I'll talk to Nate tomorrow."

"Fair warning? This is probably going to take more than one conversation."

"Yeah, I know."

"But that's okay. Because while Nate's helping you with your mind, I'll help with your body." I raise my eyebrows and wait for the sexual innuendo. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Fern, that's not what I meant."

I give him another look, and Deeks relents, "Okay, that's not the _only_ thing I meant."

I'm glad to hear it, because shunning the emotional connection with Deeks lately has resulted in less of a physical relationship, and I miss him. "So what else are you talking about?"

"First tell me what you meant when you said you didn't want to work out with me because you didn't want me to see you like that. Like what? And why not?"

This was what got Deeks angry earlier. He's already seen me at my worst, so what am I hiding from him? "It's stupid now, after what you said before."

"Tell me anyway. And I shouldn't have blown up at you like that."

"No, you had every right to. You've seen me and helped me though a lot of crap lately, Deeks, and part of me was just tired of you seeing me repeatedly fail, and having to depend on you for so much." I pause to take his hand again and gather my thoughts. "So yeah, I wanted to run on my own just because I could. To prove I don't need you there when my foot drops and I almost fall. But also because taking it out on you when I _did_ need you was getting old, and I was beginning to hate myself for it."

"Listen, baby. I know you don't need me, most of the time. But there's nothing wrong with needing me sometimes, is there? Would it help to think about what an ego boost it is for me when you do? That this strong, incredible woman, who doesn't need _anybody_ , sometimes needs _me_? And lets me be there for her."

"You are so full of shit," I smile at him.

"A lot of times, yeah. But about this, I'm serious. I don't think you understand what it does for me, Kensi, to know that I'm the only one you'll let see you vulnerable on the rare occasions it happens. And let me comfort you when it does."

I think back to Afghanistan and being questioned by the DOJ and remember how safe I felt when I let my guard down in Deeks' arms. I need to be willing to do that again, to let him be there for me. Apparently it does wonders for both of us. "So you want to work out with me again, shoot with me again, and then make me feel better when I'm not doing as well as I'd like?"

"I seem to recall trying to be your cheerleader and it not working out so great. Maybe I can just help you keep it in perspective, yeah? By pointing out the progress you _have_ made and offering suggestions on how to make more? Or we can just hire a trainer for you."

"No trainer, I miss doing those things with you, babe. But I am worried about taking it out on you. I don't think you appreciate how bad a mood I'm in when I can't reach the goals I've set for myself."

"You want me to call you on it, when it bothers me? Because while it didn't all the time, I admit that sometimes it hurt. I'd rather do that than not spend the time together."

I consider for a moment. I'll be offering Deeks a lot of apologies in the coming weeks, but hell, I probably already owe him a ton. Maybe I can make him a two-for-one deal on those? Every "I'm sorry" can cover one present and one past offense? Still probably won't make us square, but it'll help.

"Deal," I declare, as I withdraw my hand from Deeks' and then extend it to shake on our new arrangement. I realize I'm feeling a loosening in my chest. That the ever-present knot of anxiety is beginning to disintegrate a little. I'm optimistic that between Deeks and Nate, I have the support system I need to get me back to where I _want_ to be: by Deeks' side, preferably in the field as well as at home. And if I don't make it back to NCIS, I'm hopeful they'll help me figure out what comes next.

Deeks' accepts my hand with a look that says, _Are you kidding me?_ as he pulls me toward him for a kiss. We probably would have escalated to a full-blown make-out session if we weren't both so emotionally drained. So instead we just cuddle on the couch and enjoy the sensation of our bodies against one another.

Tomorrow I'm going to start talking to Nate, and letting Deeks help me recover from my physical and emotional traumas. I'm not going to "find myself" back in Syria where it all started. I'm going to do that here, with the support of the person I love and plan to share my life with; the one who would do anything for me.

I guess I'm not so much like Jack after all.

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 **AN:** I see this as taking place sometime after Kulinda (8x12) and just before Hot Water (8x13). Like, the night before tonight's episode. And no, just because Kensi plans to seek Nate's help doesn't mean I think he's innocent of being the mole. Just adds to the betrayal, IMO.


End file.
